


The One that Got Away

by TheDarkMetalLady



Series: At the Edge of the World [2]
Category: Gloryhammer (Band)
Genre: Angst, Dreadlord Proletius - Freeform, Gen, Graphic Violence, Proletius can't catch a break, Sad, Zargothrax is angry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-28
Updated: 2020-01-28
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:01:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22443007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDarkMetalLady/pseuds/TheDarkMetalLady
Summary: Zargothrax got a report following the attack on Crail. He was not happy with the results.
Series: At the Edge of the World [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1595275
Comments: 5
Kudos: 5





	The One that Got Away

**Author's Note:**

> Make sure to check the warnings/tags. It's recommended to read the first part in the series before reading this.
> 
> I do not own the Gloryhammer characters. Please note that this story is about the _characters represented by the band_ and **not** about the band members themselves.

“What do you mean, one escaped!?”

The Dark Sorcerer’s fury was an inferno that threatened to swallow up the entire mighty citadel of Dundee. The poor goblin deathknight that stood before the Dark Emperor was shaking in terror, dread running through their veins as they quivered beneath their dark cloak. 

Everyone knew what happened to those who displeased the Master Zargothrax -- no one knew what happened to those individuals after, of course, beyond that they would suffer beyond imagination, but everyone knows that they disappeared and were never seen again. Some said the fate was of equal magnitude to the Dark Emperor’s fury in the moment that they were cast away. And if that was the case…

The deathknight goblin let out a scream as their body suddenly turned to mist, but before the noise could get too loud, their throat was vaporized and within an instant it was as if the deathknight goblin had never existed.

Zargothrax sat upon the darkened crystalline throne (with a comfortable cushion under his arse, for not even an insanely evil ruler would want to sit on bare solid crystal all day), fuming. His hand was gripping the dark crystal of the armrest, knuckles white beneath his glove. Servants scurried silently through the throne room, avoiding making any noise or stepping into the line of Zargothrax’s gaze, doing whatever was necessary to ensure there was no reason for the Dark Emperor to pay them any mind. (The one goblin servant who made the mistake of passing through Zargothrax’s line of sight had inexplicably combusted, leaving nothing behind, not even ash.)

The grand entrance of the throne room opened, and Zargothrax looked up, scarlet eyes glowing and gaze sharper than the blade of the knife that was strapped to his arm. He watched as the figure approached and bowed before him.

“Dreadlord Proletius,” the Dark Emperor spoke, his tone as cold as the prison of ice he had suffered through in another dimension. “Report on your latest mission.”  _ And hope that your report is not the same as what your little insignificant scout had just said moments earlier. _

“Our force of four hundred--” began the corrupted grandmaster, but Zargothrax’s patience proved thin.

_ “How many escaped.” _

“One, Your Majesty.”

A slap echoed across the room. Faster than was humanly possible, Zargothrax had gotten to his feet, and the Dreadlord ended up on the floor of the throne room from the force of the blow.

Several of the servants had paused their tasks to watch.

“Get up.”

The Dreadlord got up silently. He stood straight and at attention, not moving to wipe away the blood that was pooling at the corner of his lip and beginning to flow down his ashen-colored skin.

“Which one escaped,” Zargothrax asked upon managing to work through his rage enough to find his voice. Tempting as it was to annihilate the man where he stood, the Dreadlord was unfortunately useful and efficient in murdering peasants and conquering territories. 

“Alexandra MacCrail.”

A pindrop silence filled the throne room, some of the goblin servants barely managing to hold back gasps. 

There was a yell of frustration that shook the ground in the entire citadel. Another slap followed, this one with the sharp fingertips of the Dark Emperor’s glove coming away bloody as the Dreadlord of Crail fell to the floor once more.

“She was your primary target,” Zargothrax said, his voice a dangerous fake calm. “Your primary target, a weak girl who was emotionally compromised, and you failed to strike her down as ordered.” The Dark Emperor’s steel-toed boot connected with the Dreadlord’s side, sending the Dreadlord rolling away. Zargothrax strode forward and placed his boot on the Dreadlord’s back when the corrupt grandmaster attempted to get up. “You do not get up unless I order it.” He dug his foot further into the Dreadlord’s back until he got a sound of pain that he deemed satisfactory. He kicked the Dreadlord over again and used magic to lift the insubordinate grandmaster up by the throat. “Now answer me… how did she get away?”

“She bested me in combat,” the Dreadlord responded between gasps for breath.

“You are lying.” Zargothrax’s eyes gained a brighter glow, first as magic flowed through them and then in pure rage.  **_“You let her go, didn’t you!?”_ ** With a wave of the Dark Emperor’s hand, the Dreadlord was thrown backwards, across the room and into the wall.  **_“You had her right in front of you, and you failed to strike her down as you were told!”_ ** Another wave of his hand, and the now-dazed and still-bloody Dreadlord was before him once more. 

Zargothrax grabbed the Dreadlord’s throat with his own hand. “Get rid of your useless human emotions, as you were supposed to have done already.  **_Do not fail again._ ** ” He let go, clawed glove leaving a bruise on the Grandmaster’s neck. The Dark Emperor’s magic released the Dreadlord as well, and he dropped to the ground like a thrown away rag doll. 

Zargothrax snapped his fingers, and all of the goblin servants in the room were vaporized. He went back to his throne and sat down.

He either did not notice or did not care at the lone tear that appeared from the Dreadlord’s closed eyes and mixed with the blood on his cheek. 

It was irrelevant anyways. 

**Author's Note:**

> No, we do not offer tissues.
> 
> This work was beta-read by [Lavender_Persimmon305](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lavender_Persimmon305/pseuds/Lavender_Persimmon305) (Tumblr: [tellmeoflegends](https://tellmeoflegends.tumblr.com/)).


End file.
